


In Any Other Words

by sakvnosuke



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen, also iroh is the gaang's honorary uncle, alternative summary: five times iroh didn't say the L word, in the end!! there's fluff i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakvnosuke/pseuds/sakvnosuke
Summary: Iroh blinked as the realization dawned on him. It shouldn’t be a surprise, as he cared for both boys in front of him—but he wasn’t sure if he could say it out loud. If he should. He’d said the words to Lu Ten before, but not to Zuko, never to Zuko; because Zuko wasn’t his, and it shouldn’t be his place to say those words to him.Though, he doubted Zuko ever heard those words coming from Iroh’s brother.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 317
Collections: I think of you as my own, best of avatar, iroh & zuko fics, zuko best boi





	In Any Other Words

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN.... i have a lighter toned atla wip i swear but then i got this idea and of course i finished the angst fic quicker... but YEAH here you go.

**i.**

Iroh sneaked Zuko out to train under Piandao with Lu Ten.

He had witnessed one of Zuko’s firebending lessons, the way his tutors yelled at him, Ozai’s disdainful look, Azula’s mocking words, and confronted Zuko right after. He couldn’t change Zuko’s tutors and the way his lessons go, that wasn’t his place, but he could try to cheer Zuko up by giving him something else he could focus on. Something that would take away that downcast look and trembling lips, hopefully.

His little nephew excelled in swordsmanship.

Soon enough, he found out Zuko was even better than Lu Ten.

It was proven on today’s sparring match, with Lu Ten laying on the ground, his broadsword out of his grip to the right, and Zuko’s wooden dual dao crossed on top of his throat. They were both sweating and breathing heavily, silent for a moment, before it was broken by Lu Ten’s laugh.

“You’re good, Little Cousin,” even watching from the sidelines, Iroh could hear his son’s grin. Zuko sheathed his sword and offered his hand to pull Lu Ten up. As they bowed to each other, Piandao nodded his approval and left them for a break.

They both approached Iroh’s place, identical grins on their faces, and he felt himself smiling.

“You’re both doing so well! I am so proud of you two,” and something else almost followed those words.

Iroh blinked as the realization dawned on him. It shouldn’t be a surprise, as he cared for both boys in front of him—but he wasn’t sure if he could say it out loud. If he should. He’d said the words to Lu Ten before, but not to Zuko, never to Zuko; because Zuko wasn’t his, and it shouldn’t be his place to say those words to him.

Though, he doubted Zuko ever heard those words coming from Iroh’s brother.

Zuko didn’t notice his sudden silence, still chattering loudly about how _’that was so cool, Lu Ten!’_ , but his son noticed. Lu Ten furrowed his brows in question, all the while still indulging the little cousin’s babble.

Iroh swallowed those words, at least for now. If the general was sure of something, it was that words were as much of a weapon as swords. The sentiment was true, but maybe he shouldn’t say it so soon. Not now that Zuko was beaming like he never had after his firebending practices in the palace; not now when Lu Ten was staring at him, expecting.

There would always be later times. He could still say it to both of them some time soon.

As he poured drinks for both boys, Iroh said some proverb about rest being as important as training.

**ii.**

The words almost rolled from his tongue in more than one occasion on the Wani.

His nephew raged and stomped on the deck, yelling unkind things to the crew and to Iroh in equal measure. Iroh couldn’t find it in him to be offended, though, as all he felt was a terrible _ache_ inside his chest, but he wouldn’t show it. He couldn’t show it—because his nephew would never accept it, because the prince thought he had lost his honor and he would think that Iroh was pitying him.

It was not pity, the words that stuck in Iroh’s throat. But Zuko wasn’t ready to hear it yet. His nephew was not hoping to hear those words from him. The person Zuko expected to hear it from would never say it to Zuko, though. The bandages wrapping one side of his face was proof enough.

But Zuko didn’t know that. So Iroh trained him firebending during the daytime, because _‘I need to find the Avatar, Uncle! I have no time to play your stupid pai sho!’_ and he reminded Zuko to eat and rest every time Zuko swayed on his feet but refused to stop.

Iroh hoped he could change that, too. He wasn’t sure what words would do the effect and stick.

The closest occasion of him saying the words was on another ship, with Zuko readying himself to leave, to infiltrate the Northern Water Tribe by himself. His face was battered and bruised, and Iroh tried not to think about how the cause of that was the owner of this ship they were standing on—lest he went out of control and burned this whole fleet himself.

So he fretted for Zuko to keep himself warm instead, and it all ended up in him confessing that _’I see you as my own’_. His nephew’s expression was almost unreadable, right then, an amalgam of emotion plastered on his injured face. He stiffly bowed at him, and Iroh crashed him in a hug instead, because he needed Zuko to understand the simple fact that _he cared_.

Not with _those_ words yet. He hoped Zuko understood anyway. As his nephew lowered the small boat to the freezing water, Iroh prayed to every spirit he knew, please let there be another day for him to say the words to Zuko.

**iii.**

To Iroh, the Jasmine Dragon was a gift.

Zuko grumbled about anything and everything at any given time, but he still did his work. He served tea and rolled his eyes at Iroh’s musings. He didn’t talk about his honor or the Avatar. For a while, that much was enough for Iroh.

Then, Lake Laogai happened.

Zuko had a fever the whole night, and woke up a new man. At first, Iroh wasn’t quite sure what to make of this new Zuko—this Zuko that smiled brightly at him, that spoke softly and initiated hugs towards his old Uncle. Then he realized he could just accept it as what it was: a gift. A gift his nephew earned, after the long journey they had been through.

In the presence of this new version of Zuko, those unsaid words hung on the tip of Iroh’s tongue.

Whenever Zuko smiled, Iroh felt like the words would rush out from him. It would be so easy to say it. Every time Zuko just finished another attempt on brewing tea, Iroh would sip on the drink (and try not to wince too much) and he would contemplate to just _say it_.

Zuko would whine about how he would never get the tea just right, and Iroh would properly teach him over and over again. Over and over again, those words never went further than from the tip of Iroh’s tongue.

Over and over again, Iroh felt like Zuko’s smile blinded him and he thought that maybe it would be enough even if he didn’t say the words.

**iv.**

The prison was cold. Then again, they were trying to hold the Dragon of the West in it.

Iroh tried to act cold, as well. He gave his nephew—no longer banished prince, no longer refugee, no longer Fire Nation traitor, unlike what they think of him—his cold back. He tried to keep the hot tears from trailing down his cold cheeks.

Zuko’s words were fire. His rage was fire and they swept over Iroh in a chaotic wave because Zuko felt like he was _lost_. He sounded lost and he pleaded for Iroh’s guidance, but Iroh couldn’t offer his help now because Zuko had made his choice. He’d made his choice down in Ba Sing Se, and they had witnessed the Avatar fell from his almighty state.

Iroh had done his part of trying to guide Zuko, and Zuko had made his choice. That didn’t stop the grief from threatening to swallow Iroh whole, the sadness that overwhelmed him from the fact that Zuko had chosen _this_.

(There was also guilt, somewhere in that cold sea. A second chance, and it would seem that Iroh had failed all the same. _If only I could’ve helped you_ —he wondered if he had helped Zuko at all, as the metal bars separated them.)

Zuko’s words were fire, but the words that had been plaguing Iroh’s mind for so long felt like ice in his head. It should’ve felt like warmth, the emotion those words carried should’ve translated to something like home and safety. Nothing from this situation fitted those.

The words were true, Iroh knew as much. But right then, he wasn’t sure if his decision to never say it was enough to convey the meaning.

Because there were moments where Iroh turned away from Zuko. On a burning chamber, as a scream cut through from a boy being brandished, Iroh turned his face away. In this freezing cell, as a teenager begged for guidance to a decision that should be his own, Iroh turned his back on him.

The words were stuck inside him and they didn’t feel enough.

Zuko’s visit left Iroh with ashes, and the tears that finally fell burned his cheeks.

**v.**

“You know,” Sokka started over his cup of tea. “You can’t really compare Zuko’s tea with Uncle’s.”

Zuko squawked in a fashion that was decidedly very not-Fire-Lord-like. “You said I was improving!”

“And you are!” The Water Tribe boy was not deterred by the glare fixed on him. “I’m gonna be honest here, the first time you served us your tea, I thought you were trying to poison us.”

Toph’s laugh drowned out the rest of Zuko’s protest, and Iroh found himself chuckling lightly. They were all gathering in Jasmine Dragon; Iroh, Zuko, and his ragtag group of friends. These children who had saved the world and were carrying it on their shoulders, taking a simple and well-needed break. Because these war heroes and national sovereigns and peace ambassadors were still that at heart—children.

Just children lounging in Iroh’s teashop, mere inches separating them as if the world would break apart if they sat too far from each other.

Iroh brought another teapot to the table before joining them, sitting next to Zuko. His nephew was nursing his own cup of tea—Iroh’s brew—with a scowl, but his eyes conveyed their own smile.

“Zuko is still learning,” Iroh chimed in. “I’m sure he will figure it out... perhaps when he finally reaches my age.”

“Uncle!”

“Your jokes sucked too,” Katara said with a smirk. “Well, your retelling of your uncle’s jokes anyway.”

“You retell my jokes?”

Zuko turned his glare to Iroh, but his cheeks were slightly pink. Iroh grinned at him.

“When I was trying to fit into the group, yeah,” Zuko finally muttered.

Suki laughed. “Your jokes are okay, sometimes. It just doesn’t deliver when you can’t remember the whole joke.”

Zuko threw his hands up, always one for the dramatics. “Is today bullying Zuko day? Is that what it is? Because I wasn’t informed.” He yelped when Toph punched his arm for his troubles.

“Everyday is bullying Zuko day.”

“Yeah, for _you_.”

“Exactly!”

“Come on, guys, I think we can give Zuko a little break.” Aang said, though his eyes shone with mirth and he had been laughing with the others as well. “Uncle Iroh and Zuko can both do lightning redirection. Zuko was the one who taught me how to do it!”

“He didn’t do it properly when we were with Azula.”

“Come on, Katara, you know I wasn’t ready! I did just fine… before that.”

“Come to think of it, I feel like what little social skills Zuko has is also from Uncle Iroh.” Sokka said, eyes moving from Zuko to Iroh to Zuko. He then nodded sagely like he’d figured the secret of the universe. “It’s the only possible reason.”

Suki bumped his shoulder, like they were sharing an inside joke. “The proverbs don’t run in the family, though.”

Everyone laughed again at Zuko’s expense. The target merely rolled his eyes, and there was a smile on his face that told Iroh he was actually quite enjoying this. Whether it was the tea or the jokes or the company, Iroh wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, Zuko looked rather pleased that his friends were talking about his uncle in such high regard—which was a little much, if Iroh could say so himself.

Iroh told them just that, and then Zuko’s hand reached to grip Iroh’s under the table. His nephew was looking at him with that same contented smile, and warmth rushed to wrap around Iroh’s old heart, and he suddenly felt like crying.

The warmth inside his chest felt like those words that he never said out loud to Zuko. But maybe never voicing it out was quite fine, Iroh thought, as Zuko held his hand and their banter continued. Zuko knew. Whether it was because of Iroh’s actions for him or any of the other words he used to express that feeling, Zuko knew.

Without saying those exact words, Zuko knew that Iroh loved him, and Iroh knew Zuko loved him back.

**vi.**

“Zuko,”

His nephew hummed in response, eyes still trained to the pai sho board between them. Iroh quirked a smile at the serious expression on his face and the hand poised on his chin. After all those years, Zuko finally grew the skill to actually sit down and think about his next move to beat his old uncle in a game of pai sho. After all those years, Zuko still managed to add more happiness to fill the old man’s heart.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, and this time they rolled out easily, “I love you.”

Zuko looked up at that. A myriad of expression flashed on his—no longer young, no longer in doubt—face, before they settled to a smile that crinkled the lines around his eyes.

“Are you saying that to distract me while you cheat on this game, Uncle?”

Iroh laughed, and if it was even possible, Zuko’s smile widened. “How dare you say such thing, Nephew. You of anyone else know how much I adore a fair game of pai sho.”

“I know.” He was responding to two things. He made his next move before finally meeting Iroh’s eyes again.

“Your love and care have saved me more times than I can count, and I couldn’t be more grateful.” Iroh swallowed at the lump suddenly lodging itself on his throat. Zuko was still smiling, a scar and many wrinkles adorning the skin, but still that same face, that of the boy who stood beside Lu Ten on that field as Iroh had his epiphany a lifetime ago.

The epiphany that he loved this nephew of his, as much as he loved his own son by blood.

“I love you too, Uncle.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact this draft was titled "iroh vs the L word". also if iroh did say love to zuko at some point during atla please don't tell me i'm too lazy to fact check and i don't think i can handle the humiliation-
> 
> anyways [shakes can] kudos and comment if you liked that.. and thanks for reading!
> 
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sakvnosuke)


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